


Daryl Dixon

by puppypopcornpizza



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alexandria Safe-Zone (Walking Dead), Angst, Anxiety, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Awkwardness, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Daryl Dixon Needs a Hug, Daryl Dixon Smut, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Meetings, Flowers, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gentleness, Graphic Description, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Insecure Daryl Dixon, Mental Health Issues, Mild Smut, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Prison (Walking Dead), References to Depression, Sad and Happy, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Smut, Snow, Snowball Fight, Song: La Vie En Rose, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Walking Dead Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:09:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 10,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25092136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puppypopcornpizza/pseuds/puppypopcornpizza
Summary: Daryl drabbles.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon & You, Daryl Dixon/Original Female Character(s), Daryl Dixon/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 141





	1. Sunflowers

She walked into Alexandria, gaze never lifting from her feet as Rick guided her. Daryl tried, but from the moment she walked in, his eyes never left her.

_Couldn't look you in the eyes._

Her gaze lifted, just for a second as she took in her surroundings. Landing on him, his jaw tightened as he looked away. Not noticing that Rick was guiding her his way.

_You're just like an angel._

She spoke. It was soft as she fiddled with her hands, sometimes coming up to bite a nail. Just to keep her hands busy. He didn't know what to do with his hands either.

_Your skin makes me cry._

Her sleeves pulled down and he saw the lines, new and old. Daryl felt his heart sink, eyes meeting hers once more. Her jaw tensed, he went back to his cigarette.

_You float like a feather._

She kept her shy grace - through introductions, her timid nature remained. Hands fiddling and shifting from one foot to the other. Daryl watched her tense up when he met her gaze once more, his lips twitched into an awkward smile. Her eyes widened slightly before she returned it.

_In a beautiful world._

Through all the ugliness happening around them, she kept parts of the beauty. Sunflowers strewn down her sleeve, red splattered across the painted meadows. Daryl almost wanted to smile at the sentiment.

_You're so fuckin' special._

Rick stepped to leave, eyes towards his next introduction. Her boots stayed planted to porch, almost as it she wanted to do something. Another shuffle and Daryl eyed her curiously, her hand digging in her pocket. She pulled out a small yellow daisy. Daryl only realised when he saw her walking away, shoulders tensed to her ears. Cheeks darkening at the flower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Radiohead - Creep


	2. A person’s weight as they lie on top of you

She was quiet with him. Laughing about her own made-up comics with Carl, eyes crinkling in the corners and a pencil behind her ear. Hours giggling with Michonne about God knows what. 

With him, she was quiet. Intently listening when he spoke, but quiet for the most. Giggles and outbursts of laughter replaced with soft eyes, small flowers left on his bike and crossbow when he wasn't paying attention. He caught her once. Glancing over Rick as the man spoke, he watched her tie a small bundle onto the handlebar of his bike. Her face practically beaming as she stalked away. 

She kept her distance, not out of fear but because maybe she understood him. The way she avoided crowds and would sometimes retreat from familiar touch. He understood that. 

"Mind if I join you?" Her voice was almost inaudible. 

Daryl's gaze lingered on the cigarette as he nodded, a strange sense of comfort as he felt her next to him on the porch. The night was quiet save for the crickets tucked away in the grass and the soft wind that weaved between the leaves.

"Ya a'right?" He lifted his head to her, hair disheveled and eyes puffy even in the dark. 

She gave a short laugh, rubbing her palm into her eye and shaking her head. Daryl couldn't help but frown. 

"I think," her voice cracked. "I think I'm done with sleeping for a while."

His jaw tensed as his eyes lowered back to the cigarette, ash to the filter as he put it out. 

It was quiet, not uncomfortable because he understood. She knew he understood. Late nights on runs when he'd awake in a cold sweat, chest heaving and her eyes softened on him. She'd never brought it up but he found lavender and a note on his pillow when they got back. 

" _The smell helps me sleep,_ " she wrote. 

Chewing on his lip, he glanced towards her. Distant stare into nothing as she let out slow breaths. He picked at his finger before deciding to hold his hand out between them. She stared, he almost retreated before she laced their fingers. She was soft, calloused yet somehow soft. 

He brought their hands to his other, enveloping skin and drawing small circles on knuckles as she scooched closer. Her head came to his shoulder and surprise came over Daryl when he didn't tense up. Her body almost melted into his, warmth radiating from her. 

For a while, they just sat there. Daryl would occasionally feel her thumb run along his palm, a small squeeze every now and then. It was comfortable, he almost didn't want to speak up.

"'S gettin' late," he glanced down to find fluttering eyelids and soft snores. A small chuckle escaping his lips before pressing a soft kiss to her hair. It smelled like lavender. 


	3. Finding old photographs you’d forgotten about

The cells were mostly quiet during the day. With assigned duties being tended to and rays gracing skin outside, the cells were usually vacant. Usually. 

A clatter and suppressed sob from one of them, and Daryl's feet were moving before his mind caught up. Breeze drifted from inside and he caught a glance of polaroids and trembling hands. He took a breath, thoughts catching up to actions as a tensed jaw and a tightness in his chest took centre stage. 

An awkward shuffle and he considered leaving, a shaky breath from the other side of the fabric and his heart took over as he softly cleared his throat. 

It's silent after that, almost deathly. Daryl felt a pounding in his chest as he tried to casually lean against the wall next to him. 

There's shuffling in the cell, boxes being shifted into hiding while tear stained cheeks are wiped dry. She peeked from behind the curtain before nodding her head to inside. 

The silence was somehow worse after that. Daryl stood at the doorway as he watched her shrink away from him, muttering apology after apology as if he'd attack if she weren't careful. Her arms wrapped around her body as she made it to the other side of the cell, almost believing that distance would keep her invisible walls from shattering. 

"Who was it?" 

He didn't mean for the words to leave his lips, he almost wanted to grab them in the air before they reached her ears. He expected harsh daggers and a cold glare when she glanced at him. Tears brimmed in her eyes and she had her jaw set almost as tensed as his was. "

He… " She swallowed hard, gaze falling to the floor. 

"Ya don' have ta," his arms crossed over his chest, fingers biting into skin. 

"I'm not- I didn't-" she couldn't find the words, hands running through hair and fingernails leaving red lines down her arms. 

"He shouldn't have  _ been _ there," her voice cracked as she stared at him with pleading eyes. "And then I said what I said and he… "

"It ain't ya fault," his voice was soft, cautious footsteps carrying him towards her. She didn't move away, her body seeming to gravitate towards him. 

"It wasn' ya fault," he said again, her face burying into his neck as she grabbed the front of his jacket. His arms slowly went around her shoulders, grip as tight as she'd allow. 

She muffled her sobs into his skin, grips on one another becoming tighter until there was no space left between them. Apologies fell from her lips and his hand rubbed the back of her neck to lull them. He lowered his head to her shoulder and whispered quietly. 

"'S a'right," he breathed shakily. "I'm 'ere, ya a'right."


	4. Blood at the corner of your mouth

"Painter," she panted, hunching over as she caught her breath. Chest throbbing and red covering her hands. 

"Wha'?" Daryl breathed. Sweat dripped down their necks as the sun beamed above, heat seeming to worsen the longer they were there. 

"I think," she stood up straight, squinting from brightness. "That before all of this, you were a painter."

He scoffed - keeping his gaze from her, a smile almost played on his lips. Pulling the arrow from the corpse he wanted to speak up but no words left his throat. 

"What?" she laughed. He couldn't tell if his hands were clammy from the heat or from her. 

"Pain'er?" he couldn't keep the disbelief from his face, he felt the corners of his lips quirk upwards at hearing her snicker. "You see me 'n some fancy art studio?" 

"With a beret," his eyes shot up to her for a glare, but softened as they landed on her mouth. Blood smeared and dripped, the collar of her shirt bleeding with red as it continued from its source. 

Her jaw tensed and he watched her wince, she frowned at him. 

"Daryl, it's okay." Her palm smeared it more. He didn't think. But when he registered, the red cloth was clearing the blood from her jaw. She tensed before relaxing, her eyes curiously watching his as he worked. 

"Should head back, gettin' dark soon." He wanted to move, his brain told him to move but his feet were planted. Her breath ghosted over his cheeks as her gaze lowered to his lips. Instinctively he parted them, static worked its way from his chest to his stomach as he watched her tongue sweep across her bottom lip. 

"Yeah." 

"Yeah." 


	5. Snowflakes

She had snowflakes in her hair. White peppered in wisps that bounced and tumbled. Cheeks flushed as laughter fell from her lips, eyes always crinkling in the corners. 

Her gaze landed on him and Daryl felt himself melt despite the cold. Eyes that were once filled with wild mischief were soft and quiet on him. The corner of his mouth twitched up and she returned a smile so bright that the _fucking snow_ couldn't even beat. 

Time stood still with her, it always did. Light touches and quick glances had his world at a halt. Hair tickling his neck when she'd rest on his shoulder, light squeezes and affirmations through crooked smiles. Words would get caught in his throat and all he could manage was a nod. A chuckle from her, it didn't mock. Nothing she did was to mock. 

It brought him solace in everything - she did. Little drawings she'd do and leave around for him to find, how they could sit in complete silence alongside each other and it would be comfortable. Her more quiet and reserved nature around him was through understanding and not insecurity. 

"Daryl!" Her voice rang out before he felt cold against his face. A giggle from Lydia and Aaron barked out a laugh. Daryl's mouth twitched up as bright eyes watched him. 

White flew through the air. Laughter rang out and - for the first time in a long time - _things felt okay_. Daryl stood to aim his misshapen snowball and a weight pushed him onto his back, meeting with soft eyes and panting lips. 

"Tacklin's illegal," he let out a breathy laugh as his head fell back. The sky matched the ground. 

"You gave me the opportunity, Dixon." She smiled as her breath ghosted over his cheeks. 

RJ let out a shout and snow came barreling, Daryl rolling her over to take the brunt. Dark hair acted as a curtain as he gave a grin he kept only for her, eyes flashing with the same mischief she wore only moments before. 

A frozen hand came to her cheek and she gave a sharp breath before he shot up and ran the other way. Shouting curses in his direction, an attempt to tackle him again and he was carrying her on his back. Soft laughs in his ear ran goosebumps down his neck as hands gripped for stability, snow flying their way. 

"You can't get rid of me, babe," voice barely a whisper but enough that his throat went dry. Running came to a stop, away from sparkling projectiles and her boots dropped from around his waist. 

He smiled at her, pure and genuine. Icy fingers barely touching her face as he looked down, maybe he feared what would happen if his palm came flush with her skin. That maybe she'd disappear or run. Smaller hands wrapped around his wrists as she returned his expression. 

Maybe events led up to this, breath mixing and his forehead against hers as eyelids fluttered closed. His chest tightened and breathing became difficult. Realisation dawning on him as his thumb traced over her cheekbone. 

She leaned into him, lips inching closer ever so slowly. She was soft and rough and also slow. Cradling her face in his hands, he was gentle as their lips met. Cold fingers made their way to his neck and he sucked in a breath at the shock, giggles escaping her as he smiled into the kiss. Almost in a state of disbelief because she was soft, and she smelled faintly like flowers, and she traced patterns into his skin and then she _moaned_ and he pulled away. 

"I've been wanting that for at least a decade, you coulda given me a minute." She kissed the corner of his mouth and he let out a chuckle, pressing his lips to her forehead. 

"Shoulda done tha'..." He sighed, head going to the crook of her neck. 

"A really long time ago," she laughed at his grumble in agreement. 

"Ya jus'-" he tried to find the words. "I don'..." 

"I know, babe." Voice soft as ever as fingers ran through his hair, pressing a kiss to his temple. "I know." 


	6. Please don't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Suicide Helplines](https://cwanky.tumblr.com/post/163379039508/us-helplines-depression-hotline-1-630-482-9696)

Ground crunched under her boots at weary steps, silver rays through the branches above danced on bare arms and reddened skin. Crickets chirped in their hideaways as she listened for the sounds of the dead. 

Footsteps came to a sudden halt at the snarling from ahead. Heart pounding as her thoughts caught up to her actions, the long familiar numbness fading away as tears began to well in her eyes. Lungs constricting as a pain took over, her fingers dug into her cheeks as she struggled to suppress sobs. 

Vision blurred as the snarling grew closer and she leaned heavily into a tree. A laugh almost escaped, bitter and relieved at the thought of an end. The ache that sat deep in her chest would disappear and everyone else on the farm would be _happy_. Her hand fell to her side as her gaze lifted to find the creature that would finally bring everything to a stop, an arrow met it mid-step and she couldn't stop the disappointed sigh that left her.

"The fuck're ya doin'?" She kept her eyes from Daryl, the numb settling back in as she leaned more into the tree. 

They were both quiet, Daryl waiting for a response as her mind swarmed with excuses. The exhaustion flooding her body the longer she felt his eyes on her. 

"I…" Her voice sounded wrong. "Please don't tell anyone."

His response wasn't immediate, she expected outrage and questions of 'how could you' and 'you're being dramatic.' Instead he asked _why_ , so soft and quiet it surprised her that the word fell from his lips.

"I'm tired, the apocalypse seemed as good a time as any." She scoffed. Pushing herself off the tree, she let her gaze rise to his. Face an odd mix of confusion and hurt as he frowned at her, his eyes conveying an emotion she'd never seen him wear.

"Ya-" he cut himself off. Words mulling over in his brain as he tried to string together the right combination. 

"Daryl, it's…" She knew the rest of her words would be lies and it wouldn't be okay, not after this. 

Seconds were hours as the both of them stood there, words stuck as the silence continued. He let the crossbow fall to the ground and his arms wrapped around her before she could react. Gentle and soft and almost _tense_ , like he feared her reaction or thought that she'd break at his touch.

She let her head fall to the crook of his neck as her fingers gripped his jacket, tight around the fabric like he'd disappear in a moment. He relaxed into the embrace, her body flush against his as he tightened his hold on her. 

A sniffle from his shoulder and he pressed a soft kiss to her temple, gently running his fingers down her arm. Her grip somehow tightened as he felt her shake in his arms, his chest ached at how helpless he felt. His neck muffling her sobs as they stood there until she stopped. 

He found a note on his crossbow the following day, torn and crinkled with coffee stains. 

" _Thank you_ ," she wrote.


	7. Don't stop

It was dark in Alexandria, the gravel sparkling from the recent storm and the air cool. Her steps were fast as she walked back to the house, breath shuddering by the time she caught a glance of the archer sitting on the railing. 

She watched his hand lazily glide over the crossbow as he cleaned the weapon, nimble fingers stopping in certain areas before moving on. Stomach fluttering at the sight, any cold she had left in her body was replaced with  _ heat _ by the time her boots found the porch. 

"Ya starin'." Her gaze snapped to his face, his eyes down as she watched a smirk play on the corner of his lips. At this point, her body was on fire. 

"Oh um…" She cleared her throat to try and allow words to leave it. "You're just really good with your hands." 

Daryl's eyes found her through a dark fringe, face unreadable as he  _ slowly _ ran the stained cloth down the barrel. She wasn't sure how she wasn't drooling. She cleared her throat again. 

Her feet felt heavy as she moved to sit opposite him on the railing, knees to her chest as he continued to work. Head resting on her arms as her eyes followed his fingers. 

"S'dya need somethin'?" She hummed to his voice before breaking from her thoughts. His eyebrow raised at her blank face. 

"Not really," she shrugged, returning her chin to her forearm as she watched him through lashes. "Don't stop on my account."

He gave something between a scoff and a short laugh at her reply, eyes crinkling in the corners ever so slightly. She smiled, heart swelling at the thought of one day maybe being the cause of his grin or laugh. 

"I really like your smile," the words escaped before she could stop them. 

"Like yours too." Their expressions matched, equal part of shock embarrassment. He paused on the crossbow and their gazes locked, eyes wide and mouth agape. 

Images flashed in her mind of soft moans, her back making contact with the wall as calloused fingers gripped her thighs. Skin going red and purple through pure ecstasy. The both of them chasing a high as incoherent words are whispered into necks. 

Her lips parted as he slowly leaned back, still quiet and his mind still processing his confession. Her brain was broken, it was wrong she was being stupid. 

"I like you," she wanted to laugh at how innocent that sounded after what her brain just conjured. 

"Ya like me?" Voice gruff and quiet, head tilted to the side. 

"I like you," she repeated. "And I can't stop thinking about you, and I want to-" 

She clamped her mouth shut, more words threatening to spill over. Heart aching and screaming at the thought of being laid bare to hurt, she was sure her own fear matched his. 

"I like having you around and I don't want to lose you," her fingers ruffled her hair to make the knot in her stomach leave. 

He leaned forward, maybe to listen more or maybe so he could run if she carried on speaking. Eyes glinting from silver light, he watched her carefully. Her entire body went numb.

"I…" She scoffed, the brief confidence she had leaving her. "I'm sorry I shouldn't-" 

"No, ya ain't-" he cut her off. Trying to rake his brain for the right words. "Ya didn't do nothing wrong."

"But you… a-and me and the fucking world's over," she sighed. "Daryl-" 

"I like ya too." 


	8. Broken

"Do you ever…" her voice trailed off. Eyes squinting from the sun as the gears turned in her head. 

The run was quiet. Rick and Carl walking ahead lost in their own talk while she slowed to match Daryl. Cardboard covered windows and abandoned cars littered the once bustling shopping district, Walkers either trapped or wandering alone into the day. 

"Wha'?" Daryl looked to her, gears still working hard. 

She pursed her lips, eyebrows knitted as she stared ahead. Fingers fiddling with her unsheathed knife, her knuckles turned white when she gripped the handle to speak. 

"There's this thing," she cleared her throat. "This Japanese art called 'Kintsugi' yeah?" 

Eyes forward, he hummed for her to continue. Carl nudged his elbow into his father's side as he laughed. 

"So a vase will break, and instead of trying to make it look like it's _not broken_ , they'll use this glue-typa-laquer shit to put it back together." 

"A'right," he nodded. Brows furrowed slightly as to what her point was going to be. 

"And when it's all glued together, it'll get painted with like, gold or silver or something like that." He glanced at her to see a tensed jaw. "The whole bottom line is that through all the broken parts, something beautiful and stronger can come of it."

"Ya been thinkin' a lot," his shoulder bumped into her gently. 

She gave a chuckle, soft and shy with her eyes locked to her boots. 

"I dunno. It makes me think of us, you know?" 

"Us?" 

"This group," their eyes met. "All of us, you and me and those two dorks up front and everyone back home."

He couldn't stop the smile that tugged at his lips, head lowering as he let the dark curtain keep him from her view. She didn't have blind optimism - he knew her well enough by now that she was no optimist, but more the outlook she held. That beauty and flourishing could grow from the most ruined and broken, through everything she _still_ believed that.

"Tha' one's m' favourite o' yers," he raised his head to see clouds slowly moving over the blue. 

"All of my thoughts are _immaculate_ , Mr. Dixon." She joked, leaning into him. 

He gave a soft chuckle, low as he glanced at her. 

"Yea', but tha's m' favourite." 


	9. Tickling

Carl's glee spread through the camp, breathless giggles and begging for a stop. Daryl watched her fingers lightly graze sides, smile bright as the boy wriggled for escape. Glancing at Lori he expected disdain and sneering but her face _beamed_ at the sight, Rick's softer expression something he hadn't seen before. 

He let the corners of his mouth twitch up, small but more than he'd allow with most. Arrow in hand, he went back to sharpening when the giggles suddenly died down. A shriek and Carl was exacting revenge while she called for truce. Glancing back, he saw her raise a dirty white cloth above her while the child pouted. 

Daryl didn't know why but he liked her. She tried to make light of grim and dark situations and he didn't understand _why_ , but he liked that. They met and he assumed her to be the blind idealist but then she spoke to him. 

"Well, the world's fucked."

"Always been tha' way," a scoff, amusement spreading across his face. 

She paused before speaking again, chuckle leaving him unexpectedly. 

"Okay you're right, the Walkers're an upgrade and the world is _significantly_ better."

Maybe she chose the sunshine route for everyone else at camp, to keep herself sane where everything else wasn't. Because she joked one night and he swore he heard crying from her tent later on.

He didn't say anything. The following morning was just as any other, smiles and flowers she'd found just outside camp. He couldn't understand how she _always_ had flowers. 

"Hey stranger," she sank to the ground in front of him. 

"Ya done assaultin' the kid?" Eyes kept to the arrow that didn't seem to be getting a point. 

"I bring nothing but _joy_ to this camp, babe." She grinned, head lowering to grass. Fingers gripping green like it'd been the first time she'd felt grass. 

A laugh through his nose and he dropped the arrow, full attention on her as elbows rested on knees. Smile still on her face as eyes fluttered and her chest rose and fell steadily. 

"I don' get ya." 

"Why's that?" One eye peeking at him. 

He chewed his lip, picking at fingers and his brain for an answer. He lowered his head and ruffled hair, a sigh from his lips before speaking. 

"Found sunflowers 'few days back, ya comin'?" 

She shot upright, eyes sparkling. "Is this your way of getting me flowers?" 

He felt the heat spread across his face, throat suddenly dry as he searched for a response. 

"Shu' up, c'mon." Crossbow over his shoulder as he walked away. 

Running after him, her words did nothing to help the blush. "If it _is_ , you're doing a pretty good job at it." 


	10. Infuriating

The gates screeched, rusted metal pulled open at Michonne's ringing voice. Weary and limping footsteps found their way into Alexandra's walls. Daryl's steps matched a pounding heart. 

She felt numb, and she wanted to cry and scream, and her chest felt tight and she couldn't _breathe_. Pale blue behind a dark fringe that she forced her mind to forget because erasing was the only thing to make the ache less. 

Boots planted to concrete, she felt rigid. Daryl gripped the crossbow strap and imagines flooded of his hand enveloping hers, calloused and raw fingertips. Talks that stretched deep into moonlight, warmth when eyes would crinkle in corners and a smile spread across his lips. 

His footsteps drew close and her entire being ached. Gnawing hurt that she forced down to be buried and forgotten and never thought of but he was _here_. 

He was here and everything rushed back. 

"Hey," Daryl kept his head low. She felt her throat go dry. 

"Hi."

"Ya look good," head tilting to the side. Tired gaze meeting widened eyes. 

"You-" a break in her voice. "Y-you do too." 

It felt surreal, she could reach out and he wouldn't disappear into air that always mocked her at night. His voice wasn't a whisper that slowly faded. 

"'M sorry," weight shifting between feet. "For not comin' back more." 

Hurt flashed and, for a moment, she let herself feel. Tears welled as she glanced up at him. 

"You left," his jaw tensed. "Y-you left and then you stopped coming back and I thought something _happened_."

Gazes met as he frowned, the more she spoke the more tears would fall and the tighter her throat would feel. 

"A-and I couldn't come see you, as much as I wanted to I couldn't. Because you were looking for him and I couldn't be there after everything, and I wanted to be so _fucking_ mad at you for not coming back but I _couldn't_." 

Glistening eyes stared back and she hated that her words were the cause. The grip on the strap turned knuckles white. 

"Maybe you just felt more comfortable out there but _fuck_ , Daryl." She wanted to run, far away until she found nothing. 

"Didn' know…" He sniffled and she fucking _hated_ herself. 

"You _left_ ," a suppressed sob. All she wanted was his safety. 

He was slow, arms wrapping around her shoulders until he felt eyelashes fluttering in his neck. A whimper from his lips before fingers gripped the fabric over his shoulders. She felt him _breathe_ , a closeness she didn't think would happen again. Cries stilled in embrace, a sense of safety bringing them both peace. They just stood there for a while. 

She let out a soft chuckle, his familiar scent feeling like home. 

"Wha'?" Words into her shoulder. 

"You need a haircut." 

His muffled laugh was enough to quiet the ache, if only she knew that her words did the same for him. 


	11. Rosy Hues

"Beth, I'm  _ really _ shit with kids." She paused. "Can I say 'shit' around her?" 

"All you have to do is rock her for a while, okay?" Beth chuckled at her horrified state, eyes wide and jaw tensed. "Maybe even sing to her, sure she'll like that." 

The baby felt wrong in her arms, small and fragile and doe-eyed. Judith cooed at her as she watched Beth walk off, the smile on the other woman's face leaving her even more uneasy. 

"Okay Judy," she rocked Judith in her arms as she strolled across empty cells. "I don't know what to do with you so I'm just gonna hope you fall asleep in a bit like Beth said you would."

The infant babbled in her arms and she nodded. "I agree."

She hummed softly, swaying and searching the room to trigger a song. Soft light through the small windows reflected off a pair of sunglasses that caught her eye. 

"I wish I knew French but we'll have to make do with English," Judith stared at her blankly as she spoke and she hung her head with a sigh. Her voice echoing off the walls when she started singing. 

" _ Hold me close and hold me fast _ ."

She smiled, the butterflies she'd normally have around Daryl coming alive as the words left her lips. 

" _ The magic spell you cast _ ."

Footsteps at the door not reaching her ears as she continued, Daryl felt the blush spread up his neck. 

" _ This is la vie en rose _ ." 

He couldn't move. Rooted to the spot, he couldn't bring himself to speak or breathe but only listen. She swayed, the gentleness something he hadn't seen from her. Voice trapping him, he felt as if under a trance by the most lovely siren. 

" _ When you kiss me heaven sighs _ ."

He felt his heart swell and that terrified him. Warmth in his chest and butterflies he hadn't felt in what seemed like a lifetime. 

" _ And though I close my eyes _ ."

The wall was cool on his shoulder, nothing to help the heat that spread across his entire body. 

" _ I see la vie en _ \- fuck," eyes on him, he wanted to ground to swallow him. "Hey Daryl."

"Ya sound good," he tried to hide from her. He was sure his face looked like he'd been outside too long. 

But then  _ she _ went red, timid and shy even. A certain sense of pride swelled in him for being the cause. 

"Um…" She kept her eyes to the ground, lips twitching up ever so slightly in the corners. "Thank you."

"What was it?" He tilted his head, hair falling over the puppy dog eyes he knew he had. 

"Old French love song," she chuckled. Watching him through lashes, he didn't think his heart could race any faster. "I don't really think the English version gets the message across as well."

"I uh…" He brought his hand to the back of his neck like the words would leave him easier that way. "I think ya got the message across."

Then she smiled, fucking  _ beamed _ and he thought he'd  _ melt _ . She kept her gaze from him as she gave a soft laugh, her eyes crinkled and all he could think about was what her lips would feel like against his. 

"I guess I had a bit of inspiration." Then he saw it. The same look he was giving her, the softness and gentle, the pure  _ adoration _ in her features.

He cleared his throat and pushed off the wall. "I'll take Lil' Asskicker, Rick was askin' about ya at the gate."

"I guess I'll see you in a bit then," smile still on her face and the only response he could manage was a nod. 

In that moment. A moment where she passed a sleeping Judith into his arms and took her leave, did he realise something. The small act of domesticity and parenthood he never thought he'd experience or _want_. 

He was completely and utterly in love with this woman. 


	12. worn leather and a dull ring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prequel to Infuriating

" _Everything okay?_ " Connie scribbled on the notepad. Daryl felt the hole in his chest ache.

He nodded. Gnawing at his lip and avoiding her gaze, he nodded and she frowned. She scribbled again and a sigh left him.

" _Come on._ " She pushed, he wanted to avoid the question but keeping the thoughts in his brain only hurt more. Daryl took the notepad and words spilled onto paper.

" _There's someone in Alexandria,_ " she glanced at the words and wiggled her eyebrows at him. He rolled his eyes and scoffed, Connie only smiled.

" _Haven't seen her in a while, think she might be mad._ " The sudden thought of 'what if' played in his mind. What if she wanted nothing to do with him? What if she moved on and he was nothing but an after thought?

Connie took the notepad from him. Hand running down his face, he peeked through fingers.

" _Is that from her?_ " Connie's gaze fell to his neck, worn leather cord wrapped over a dulled silver ring. He nodded, the metal burning through the fabric on his chest.

"She talked 'bout gettin' married," Daryl smiled and gestured his finger to Connie.

He remembered the excitement radiating off her when eyes fell on silver, she spent the rest of the run hinting to Glenn.

"Glenn, how do you hint to someone that you're getting married?"

"Show them the ring?" Confusion over his features, she smiled.

Pulling the cord from under her shirt, she watched confusion fade into shock and then into excitement. Glancing between the ring and Daryl, he laughed as he hugged her. A shy smile hidden beneath dark hair as Glenn matched her excitement.

" _So you're married?_ " Connie smiled. Writing his reply, he felt his own smile spread.

" _Technically._ "


	13. The night we met

Footsteps fading as Daryl's words hung in the air. Burning and anger and empty. Every emotion she could feel, she felt in that moment and it hurt. 

Mouth opened to scream with no sound, tears that should fall didn't. She wanted to regret shy smiles and sad eyes, flowers blooming and warmth. 

In that single moment, pain she thought she wouldn't feel sprout into twisted vines and shattered glass. A crash that seemed would never happen. 

_I had all..._

Moments where he'd allows closeness - touch and fingertips on skin. Her heart swelled at the sight of shy smiles and softer eyes. 

_... and then most of you…_

The drive back from Woodbury felt wrong, different. Merle's presence didn't help.

_... some..._

Crossbow slung over his shoulder, she was rooted. Watching through the eyes of a body that wasn't her own. A last glance her way and familiar sad eyes made her bitter. She wanted to resent but Merle's arm went over him and she felt broken.

 _... and now none of you_.

She wanted to remember gentleness as something happy but his touch was burned into her skin and his voice rang like a siren. She wanted to regret everything. 

_Take me back to the night we met._


	14. Blue Period

The prison was colder that night. Chatter replaced with quiet and nothing, rain trickling down the fences as he passed them. 

There was an itch. An itch where he felt like he needed to distract himself or it would settle in and then the dread would come. Because Rick disappeared into the Tombs, and Lori was gone, and they had a baby they needed to take care of now and everything just felt _fast_. Rapid in a way that if he blinked, the prison would disappear and everyone would be gone. 

Metal scraped as he pushed the door open, wood creaking with each stair. She was still, fixated on endless dark. 

"Hey," Daryl stood next to her. Face blank as she nodded, he missed the light in her eyes. 

Legs dangling of the side with hers, the cold seeped through his jeans. Goosebumps danced on her arms and his jacket was being draped over her shoulders. She gripped the edges like it grounded her. 

"I think…" A sigh. "I think this is the start of our Blue Period."

He cocked his head at her, chewing the inside of her cheek with swarming thoughts that were being held for too long. 

"I did a research thing on Picasso - y'know, way back when." Fingers picked at raw skin, he found it oddly endearing that they shared the habit. 

"Don't remember the details but his friend took his own life and that sent him into a depression. He started using blue in his paintings more, it started subtle but gradually it got worse and he ended up painting exclusively in shades of blue."

She sighed, shaking her head and squeezing her eyes closed. "So that became his 'Blue Period', it feels like that's what's happening now." 

Her voice was quieter by the end, like she didn't want to believe it was or that she hoped for a different comparison. Everything did feel blue. 

"Maybe it ain't," his gaze turned to sunlight slowly starting to creep over endless dark. "Maybe it's like some pre-blue thing."

A chuckle left her and he felt his mouth twitch into a small smile. Shaking her head at him, he watched the light peek out. 

"That's like the worst thing you can say, fucking 'pre-blue'," She laughed. " _No_ , we're not doing that."

"Sure as hell better than thinkin' it's just downhill from here."

She scoffed, nodding her head. "Yeah, suppose it is." 

He found her standing before a mural in Alexandria, recollection of the conversation they had all that time ago. Yellows and oranges contrasting with dulled blues and greens. Sunlight creeping over a darkened landscape. 

"You like it?" She beamed from next to him, colour stained her skin and clothes. 

"Yeah," he chuckled softly. "Yeah, really like the contrast and what-not."

"Really? Strokes are a bit sloppy." 

Shoulder pushed her softly, she rolled her eyes as she laughed. 

"You really like it?" 

"Yeah, strokes're sloppy though."

"Shut up."


	15. This Sorrowful Life

"Daryl." 

Sunken and bloodshot eyes, he looked tired. Hair more disheveled than usual and shoulders slumping. 

"'S late, ya should get some sleep." His voice was rough, words breaking between shaky breaths and a sigh. 

Fingers reached to touch him but retreated. She watched him squeeze his eyes shut, maybe it didn't feel real. 

"I was waiting…" Jaw tensed to stop words. "I wanted to…" 

A sigh from her lips as his hand went to the back of his neck. He looked tense, even under the leather. 

"Merle…" Eyes screwed as he winced at the raw hurt. "I had to…"

"It's okay, I know it's still…"

"Yeah."

She wanted to hug him. She wanted to hold him and protect him from bad and hurt because he deserved the good, to smile more without the ache. He deserved love without poison. 

"If you ever need anything-" 

"Ya don' have to-" 

"If you  _ ever _ need anything, I promise that I'll always listen." He seemed confused. Confused in a way that, before this, he'd never heard those words. Confused in a way that those words hadn't been uttered to him until after the apocalypse and it made her  _ angry _ . 

His mouth pulled into a line. Another wince and he tilted his head and his eyes glossed over, even in the dark. 

"Daryl?" 

Gaze towards her, she knew he wanted to run. Escape from comfort that he'd convinced himself he wasn't worthy of. 

"Can I hug you?" 

There was surprise. A pause and then he nodded, eyes towards the ground like he'd done something wrong. Like a child being scolded. 

Arms wrapped over stiff shoulders, his face fell to the crook of her neck and he let out uneven breaths. She traced shaped into his hair and an unsure grip snaked around her waist. He clutched onto pain like a life source, like comfort brought him no peace but she understood. She understood that she couldn't do anything but be there. 

Moments passed and his arms tightened, a reassurance that she was there and he could have solace. She wanted him to know but her mouth opened to speak and he let out a quiet sob. Breaths wisping through hair and shoulders shaking, a soft whimper from his lips. 

"It's okay," fingers gently stroking hair. "I'm here, it's okay." 

"'M sorry," words between sobs. "'M so sorry."

"Hey, it's okay." He felt fragile in her arms. "It wasn't your fault."

Another sob and her heart sank. Mumbles of apology into skin and cracks reaching further. 

"I coulda done somethin'." 

"You did, Daryl."


	16. What Could Be

Dog's ears perked up at knuckles rapping at the door, Daryl craned his neck to see her smile upside down. 

"Hi," voice quiet and warmth in her eyes. Figure outlined in sunrays, he'd have almost thought she were an angel. 

"Hey."

"You seem grumpier than usual today," giggles and a dodge at the pillow projectile thrown her way. 

"I ain't nothin' but _sunshine_." He watched her collapse next to him, pillow thrown at his chest and Dog's attention drawn to her. 

She hummed, eyes squinting and head nodding. She never did take any of his bullshit. 

"Baby, if _you're_ sunshine that means the dead aren't walking." 

Daryl scoffed, fingers running through hair and gaze drawn towards the window. Leaves danced in the wind and a branch would occasionally tap the glass. 

Her leg crossed over his and kicked the other foot, somehow that small weight brought him comfort. Her head found his shoulder, even with the fully grown German Shepherd between them. 

"What're you thinking about?" 

"Wish we had more'a this."

"Me too," a peck to his shoulder and she let out a chuckle. "Maybe we'd actually be a thing."

"Y'know 's just more fun this way," his arm went over her shoulder and lavender invaded his senses. Dog saw it as the opportunity to readjust and settle onto their laps, a grunt from the both of them at the weight. 

His mind drifted off to a place where this could be their daily. Pancakes wafting from the kitchen and waking up to tangled limbs and the wagging of a tail, her scent laced throughout the house. 

Her eyes met his, breath over his cheeks and weaving through strands. She smiled, soft and loving and his heart _swelled_. Fingers grazed his jaw before cupping his face. 

"You thinking about bacon again?" Whispered words through the widest of grins. 

"Pancakes, Dog wakin' us up." 

"Bedroom _has_ to be the basement," a kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

"Obviously," lips met sweetly. A type of gentleness she'd always give to him. 

" _And_ …" She pulled away, looking off into nothing as she thought. "Dog could use a friend." 

"Oh?" His own smile spread across his face. 

"Yeah, maybe we can adopt Lydia or something. God knows that kid could use a dad like you." 

"An'a mom like you," head fell to the crook of his neck and he pressed a soft kiss to her temple. 

"But that's all in another lifetime, huh?"

Pancakes and tangled limbs became knifes and splatters of red. Aching muscles from endless fighting and an ache in his chest for what could be. 

"Yeah."


	17. Closure

Her voice rung clear in his thoughts, anger overlapping the gentle and bitterness bleeding into soft. Hot tears staining her cheeks as she walked away. Brain replaying words spat in fear. 

"How the _fuck_ is it gonna help anyone if you end up in a horde?" 

"Ya don' know that'll happen."

"And what if it does?" 

" _It ain't gonna happen_."

"We have her _daughter_ , Daryl."

Pleading eyes strayed across his thoughts - darkness flooding and rope burned through his skin. His mind lingered on pleading eyes that he couldn't soothe. 

"If you leave again," tears brimmed hurt and fear. "If you fucking leave again, I won't forgive you." 

"Sunshine-" 

Arm snatched away from a comforting embrace, he watched her retract into herself. Steps drawing away as he felt something in his chest _ache_. 

"You'll know the border when you see it, _sunshine_."

Alpha's words stuck as spikes came into view. Daryl glanced between faces he'd spoken to not even hours before. Henry came into view before she did - arms wrapping around Carol to lull the same hurt in his chest. Something shattered in him, cracking at the thought of unwanted goodbyes. 

"Is that-" 

Carol's voice broke through the white noise. His head felt heavy as he let his shoulders slump. 

"Don' look," his own voice uneven. Everything felt _heavy_. 

Arms gripped his shoulders, every fibre of his being wished that it could have been her. 

"I can't do that again, Daryl."

"It ain't gonna be like that, sunshine.”


	18. yet he saw her, like the sun

Her skin was soft - laced with gentle in a way that he couldn't think he deserved. Ridges under his touch that raised the hairs of her neck like a gust of cool air in the midst of darkness.

Eyes that brought him such peace it brewed fear in him at the thought of reliance. Sparkling mischief and warmth and love. The love is what he feared. 

"You ever think about books?" 

"Books?" 

"Yeah like…" Gnawing on her bottom lip, a hint of a smile on her lips. "Like the really old ones that used these really exaggerated descriptions." 

"Can't say I do, naw." Daryl scoffed, she had more to say and he knew she did. "Why?" 

Hair bathed in the dying glow, a flush over cheeks and a scrunched up nose as she thought. She picked at the sides of her fingers. 

"' _He stepped down, trying not to look at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.'"_

He feared the warmth would leave him. Grazes and giggles, soft whimpers and whispered adoration fading into familiar cold and nothing. 

"Wha's that from?"

"I think it was something Tolstoy wrote," timid grace through a crooked grin. Eyes averted to the ground littered with cracked concrete. 

But he feared the yearning as much as it's demise. Darkened cheeks and eyes lowered, the static in his chest when she'd beam up at him. Her smile sent him into bliss, corners crinkled and a flash of white.

"The guy knew his shit." 

"Am I the sun to you, Dixon?" An elbow to his side, smiling eyes under a dark fringe. 

"'Course ya are, sunshine." 


	19. Safety

It seemed to build. Coiling and winding until it couldn't, twisting her insides and constricting her throat until she felt the air taunt her. 

But Alexandra's walls stood, sheltering false normality against chaos. They were safe against what was - enough so that she stood in a dimly lit room with alcohol and laughter and _music_ mingling in the air. Attending a gathering she thought she'd never again see. But they weren't safe, none of them were safe and they wouldn't make it. They weren't going to survive and everything would unravel but they _shouldn't_. 

Still her mouth went dry and her fingers trembled, eyes darting between smiles and drinks. Throat tightening the longer she stood - she knew she couldn't stifle much longer. Heart racing at a clatter to the ground. She couldn't move, her ears felt submerged. A hyper awareness yet she wasn't aware. She couldn't _move_.

Glenn's voice to her was something in the background, the constant thump of a heartbeat raged in her ears. A shake to her shoulder and resolve splintered into fragments - everything felt _fast_. 

She needed to move - to leave. Legs carrying her into the night, the more she collided with people the harder her nails would dig into her palm. Unsteady fingers pulled the door open and the second cool air grazed her arms she gasped like she'd been suffocated. Drowning - she felt like she was drowning. 

Her grip found the railing as gasps turned to sobs, tears stinging her eyes and she still couldn't _breathe_. Ribs feeling as though they've shrunk to constrain her lungs, nails digging into the wood. 

She couldn't breathe. She needed to breathe. The air felt as though it'd been sucked from her, like a python had wrapped itself around her. 

"We're not safe."

But they were safe - but they also weren't. The farm should have been safe, the prison, Terminus. They _should_ have been safe. They weren't safe. 

"We're not safe." A repeating mantra to remind her, sobs between words that struggled their way out.

Another gasp before she felt fingers on her shoulder again. She didn't know how long she let splinters and chipped paint dig into her palm before she spoke. 

"I'm fine, Glenn."

"Ya don' look fine."

Everything seemed to shatter once more. Widened eyes met with blue and confusion, Daryl's hand was still on her shoulder. 

"It's not-" Her eyes darted across his face as if he were a walker, like movement would cause attack. "I didn't - you weren't…" 

His grip left and her fingers wrapped over his wrist, hyperventilating while trying to find focus. His jacket was cold - skin colder and there were veins and he had tattoos on his hand. Nails gnawed on just like hers and he had scars over his knuckles. She tried to concentrate on scars. 

"Hey," his voice was softer than normal. "Hey look at me." 

He wasn't panicked, features neutral and gaze locked with hers. Fringe covering his eyes that made them look almost black in the light, scruff across his jaw and longer at the chin. 

"Yer safe, okay? Ain't gonna let anything happen to ya." 

He held out his constrained hand, her clutch on the fabric slowly loosening. Her hands looked smaller in his. Thumb running over her knuckles, she felt the callouses even with her own. He just stood there, repeating patterns over her skin until breathing became easier and tears stopped. She didn't understand how. 

"I'm sorry," sleeves that were too long wiped at stained cheeks. 

Daryl cocked his head, in a way that he was almost studying her or trying to make sense of an apology made in panic. 

"Don' have to apologise," he squeezed her hand in his. 

She wanted to laugh - her body felt numb and heavy but she wanted to scream until her throat was raw. A sudden conflict of every emotion she could feel but also nothing at all. 

"They haven't been that bad in a while."

He chewed at his lip, eyes lowering to his boots or their hands - she couldn't tell. Sentences mulling over in his brain for a response that wouldn't inflict. She didn't know what he _could_ say. 

But he pulled and she followed, fingers intertwining as they fell into step along the road. Crickets chirped in the darkness and she walked closer to him. 

He tensed when their shoulders touched, like he'd forgotten her hand in his. Almost a vice grip before he relaxed and she ran her thumb along his forefinger. 

"Think Carol made hot chocolate," the house came into view as he spoke. She felt warmth melt into the nothing. 

"Thank you."

"For wha'?" 

"Taking me back to the house like a toddler," she held their hands up with a tired smile. 

He snorted as a small grin spread and he bumped her shoulder, "s'nothin'." 

And then she realised her cheeks hurt from smiling, and a blush spread but she felt comfortable and safe. That Daryl was her safety and that brought as much solace as it did fear. 

"Huh."

"Wha'?" 

He glanced at her from the step above, hands still locked and she wanted to smile at how he wouldn't let go. 

"You're safety." 


	20. Kitten

Carol's grin widened every time she glanced over his shoulder - like a nudge to her side at each ounce of attention received from Daryl. 

It felt like high school; the crush she had on him did too. Darkened cheeks and averting gazes, sweat collecting in her palms while her heart raced. The smaller details about him, his mannerisms, all of the fragments that piece together his existence. Everything. 

"-ya gonna have to go 'round to the other side for a vantage…" Daryl glanced up to find daggers flying over his shoulder, her jaw offset. She didn't hear a word. 

He scoffed, eyes returning to the map spread over the car's hood. He wondered if she knew - if the breaks in his voice and the pink tint at her presence hadn't given it away already. Carol didn't help, the knowing look when he'd catch her eyes after clearing his throat for the umpteenth time. 

But she did this thing - this thing where she scrunched her nose up as thoughts pondered and he couldn't help but imagine a kitten. A blush would spread and it only aided the comparison that sent him into stutters and incoherency. 

"Ya eyes ain't gonna kill anything, y'know."

"With that attitude, 'course they won't," a pout as eyes locked. He shook his head as a smile threatened to pull. 

"Gonna need'a go 'round back if those walkers're still there." Her eyes fell to the map, "take this route on yer way back."

"Seems easy enough." 

"You ready to go?" Rick's gun appeared on the hood. She nodded as Daryl folded the map and held it out to her, he looked like he wanted to say something. 

Rick patted him on the shoulder as reluctancy leaked into his leave, eyes beneath dark glancing back towards her. Daryl spoke without thought. 

"Stay safe, kitten."

Oh shit. 

Rick looked to the gates with a smile and Daryl stopped dead in his tracks - the precise _opposite_ of what he wanted to do in that moment. Carol walked past - of course she heard - pursed lips as she looked between the two of them. 

She was absolutely _dumbfounded_ , a complete daze over her expression. Slack-jawed and a croak from her as she opened her mouth to speak. 

Oh _shit_.

"I-" 

"I didn'-"

Rick and Carol were _loving_ this, she knew they were. But Daryl called her _kitten_ and she felt her bones go limp. Judging by his expression, he felt the same-

Wait.

"I'm gonna- 'm gonna just…" Daryl backed into a table before disappearing off into the prison. She watched a bottle roll off the surface before clattering onto the floor. 

"Did he just-" 

"Michonne owes me a candy bar," Carol muttered under her breath. Her grin was nothing short of mischievous. 

"You _bet_ on us?" Eyes turned to Carol, the woman's smile did not falter. 

"On who'd let it slip first," Carol chuckled. 

"Oh my-" She ran her hand down her face, if only the ground would swallow her. Daryl must have been _mortified_. 

" _So_ ," Rick had been so quiet she'd almost forgotten his presence.

"Daryl, huh?" 

"Shut up, Rick."


	21. Melancholy

It hit her worst during the day. When noon would come - like clockwork, Daryl would watch the desolation bleed into her features. 

This was quiet, a numb kind of melancholy he'd come to recognise in her. Life seeming to have been drained, her voice monotone and eyes like she hadn't slept in weeks. Movements slowed that he'd almost mistaken her for a walker on more than one occasion. 

They started subtle, her smile seeming forced or fading with empty eyes. He'd find her staring off into darkness, like the world around her had left. It was like she didn't have any fight left in her. 

Daryl stayed quiet because he understood. The consistent loss surrounding them; not knowing if they'd make the night or ever find safety - he understood why her emotions left her. It was easier. But they walked through the gates of Alexandria, he thought it would help. Months passed and she drew further away from who he knew. 

"Ya gonna eat?" 

"I'm okay," he chewed his lip watching her slump against the post. She stared off into the darkness. 

"Haven't seen ya eat in a while."

He didn't get a reply, rather a scoff and her knees pulled closer to her chest. Front door clicking shut and cutlery clinking on the plate as he set it down. 

Daryl understood, but he wished he didn't. Because he knew how heavy everything felt, only being able to assume how much it hurt. The ache deep in her chest as soon as she woke up, becoming a shell because the thought of allowing those emotions free reign was terrifying. She didn't cry anymore. 

"Why the fuck are you on my back? You're not my fucking mother, Daryl."

"I fuckin' asked if y'were okay."

"The world's gone to shit and everyone I love is dead - or they're gonna be soon. What do you think?" 

If they weren't arguing, she'd ignore him. Subtle nods and murmurs in place of beams and sweet laughter. He could only watch her struggle with drowning as misery slowly took hold. 

Nights seemed easier. She'd sit out on the porch stairs, eyes fixed to the sky like a plea for help from the stars. Daryl's eyes stared holes into the ceiling until he heard the door click and footsteps toward her room. 

"Full moon."

"Yeah."

"I ever tell ya 'bout the chupacabra?" 

"Merle never shut up about it," she scoffed but it wasn't dismissive. 

"Right." His nails dug into the railing, full weight onto his arms. Talking to her felt precarious but he didn't want to leave. 

"Why are you doing this?" 

Her voice was vulnerable or genuinely confused and she kept her gaze from him. He couldn't remember when last they locked gazes and it wasn't out of hostility. 

He thought for hours about what he would say yet he couldn't think of an explanation. Words failed to express the emotion, how he'd felt exactly what she did. 

"'Cause I know." 

"You know."

"Yer angry. Feel like shit but ya also don' feel shit."

Daryl hadn't gotten a good look at her until then - skin pale with her eyes bloodshot and sunken. She looked like a ghost. 

"Yeah." 

He pushed off the railing, fingers resting on the door handle as he turned back to her. They'd lost too much. 

"I ain't losing you too."


	22. a cracked polystyrene man

It was warm - late afternoon with golden shining through dirty windows. Dust particles caught the light as they danced throughout the car. Overgrown fields passed them by. 

_It wears him out_.

The music crackled through the radio, her voice over the static every so often. Humming along as smiling eyes drifted from clouds to his. Daryl's grip on the steering wheel relaxed; his chest ached. 

_She looks like the real thing_.

The sun made her glow but her beam competed. It was the sort of joy Daryl had only read about, uncontrollable giggles and eyes that competed with the moon itself. 

They spoke for what felt like a moment but an eternity. Stories of the past and dreams for what could be, the comfort made him uneasy. It was the kind of restlessness that came with dreams too sweet. 

_And it wears me out_.

Grey skies loomed over blue. Daryl's chest tightened. Winds picked up and a chill ran across his arms. Her singing stopped - she wasn't there. The radio went sharp - white noise scratching at his brain. 

His shoulder burned - shooting down his arm and to the tips of his fingers. Icy cement bit into dirt stained skin as forgotten guilt flooded. The polaroid a reminder of regret. 

" _We're on easy street_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fake Plastic Trees - Radiohead


	23. Disconnection

There was a normality to it - vines that had twisted and settled long before the apocalypse arrived. She assumed detachment was normal. 

It was a nothingness that protected pain. A barrier that kept her from tears and hurt but emotion suffered. Smiles would become draining and connection seemed foreign in a world where it was most important. 

Daryl gradually took an interest in her, she couldn't understand why. Unexpected quips would leave him on runs that seemed dire - he'd flash a smile at her eye roll. Small gestures that left her baffled and without words yet she still couldn't understand. 

"Ya okay?" 

"Gotta be," he scoffed at his words leaving her. 

"A'right."

Sometimes they'd just sit. On nights where barriers fell weak, they'd sit beneath stars and a moon that shined brighter than they ever could. Maybe it was because he had it too - the numb. Eyes carrying hurt that even he couldn't bring himself to feel. She understood why he preferred solitude. 

"I can't remember the last time I cried."

"Ain't gonna last forever."

"Feels like it will."

The hurt came in waves - unceasing bouts that felt never-ending until they did. Her head felt like it was floating but limbs were heavy and she'd be lying if she said that she hadn't thought of ways to make it stop. It never did. 

"I'm sorry."

He looked genuinely confused, like she couldn't have possibly done anything that needed an apology and it made it worse. Apologies didn't end. 

"For wha'?" 

"Everything."

Nothing about her suffering seemed important while the dead walked - nothing was important about it before. Daryl pulled away from her, smiles replaced with nods and nothing. She didn't blame him. Softer conversations turned bitter with each interaction, she knew it was her fault. 

"Then fucking tell me to leave." 

"Ain't gonna do tha'."

" _ Please _ ."

She wanted him to say it - to scream curses and tell her how much of a burden she was. He never did. 

"Ain't gonna be forever."

"So you keep saying."

"I dunno wha' shitty voice keeps tellin' ya that shit ain't gonna get better, but tell it to fuck off. Ya ain't a burden - never have been."

"I can't, Daryl."

"Ya can, Sunshine."


	24. Home

He understood love when her voice became home. Light that burned into his soul - brightening parts he didn't know still existed and or the first time in a long time there was more good than not. 

"I talk way too much."

Syllables played over even after she'd long departed, a record for parts that would keep him awake under stars for every right reason. Her voice, to him - was a home he was never allowed. 

"Naw… maybe." 

Daryl didn't quite understand the emotion. Initially, it confused him. What feelings he could have possibly had toward her weren't things he'd felt before. And to be so vulnerable and open - even while in solitude, simply allowing himself to  _ feel _ . It was terror of the unknown. 

But he realised that her laugh had the tension leave his shoulders and jaw. That his name from her lips put the best kind of static in his chest and as much as it frightened him, he didn't want it to end. 

"Hearin' yer voice ain't the worst thing in the world though." 

"I'll ramble on just for you, Dixon."


	25. Exhaustion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big ol' depression and suicide trigger warning, please read at your own risk.

Eyes burned with unshed tears and words held at bay. Daryl's expression was something of concern and hesitancy and it _hurt_ her. 

"I shouldn't be here, Daryl. I shouldn't be alive - none of this should've happened. Everything hurts."

But it hurt more to continue. In a world where the dead roamed and survival wasn't a given, her very bones ached at the thought of another day. 

"Ain't helping no one if ya dead." 

He tried so hard. Words would spill to try convince a mind made up long before the outbreak. She wasn't made for this world; he was. 

"I'm helping _me_." 

It seemed the most selfless thing she had done - to simply leave a world she had no place in. He tried so hard to carve an unwanted place for her. 

"Please."

"I'm tired, Daryl."

She tried to fit into the dysfunction, to push back the inevitable of what would be. But there was a daily struggle - walkers and her own brain, she didn't have the energy for both. 

"It was always gonna end like this."


	26. Carry On

He found her beyond the fences, laying in a field near the prison overgrown with weeds and long abandoned crops. Dusk crept through the sky, lights scattering the darkness.

Her gaze kept to the stars, fluttering lashes moving from one constellation to the next. Stained cheeks and sunken eyes, Daryl knew why she wasn't at the prison. 

"Been gone quite a while." 

"Thought I asked Tyreese not to tell anyone." 

She wanted to disappear long before anyone noticed. He watched Tyreese catch her, rifle in hand and the face of a guilty child. She almost broke down in front of him. 

"Don' need Ty to tell me tha' ya ain't there." Her jaw set, eyes avoiding his. 

"It's quiet out here."

"I know." 

He came down next to her - the crossbow beside the rifle. She seemed almost at peace, a melancholic type of peace. She wasn't there. 

"I'm sorry you had to come find me." 

"Nah."

"' _ Nah? _ '"

"I get it, ya needed to get away."

She watched him. Gears turning in her head or struggling to keep emotions at bay, Daryl couldn't tell. But she took a breath and her bottom lip pulled between her teeth as her eyes went to stars. 

"How do you do it?" 

His arm came behind his head, eyes away from her and toward night. She didn't want to be seen. 

"Wha'?" 

"Carry on." 

"Dunno, been tryna figure it out myself." 

He knew his words meant something. That in that moment, she'd listen to everything he had to say and the thought was terrifying. 

"You're doing pretty alright by the looks of it." 

"Ya ain't alone, s'what I meant."

"I just…" A sigh, palms rubbing at her eyes. "I thought I'd be done by now, y'know? The dead start walking and I disappear and no one has to worry anymore." 

She was quiet, he caught tears welling in her eyes but words couldn't be enough. Words meant everything but they weren't enough. 

Daryl held out his hand, a silent sigh of relief when he felt her fingers lace and bandaged knuckles were brought to a racing heart. Her grip tightened. 

"Tha's how." 


End file.
